I lost a dear friend last week. His passing made me cry.
His name was Tom Shea and I knew him for 70 years – ever since I entered St. Columban’s high school seminary in 1954 at the age of 14. Tom was 16 then, a junior while I was a freshman. Even in such a small school of only about 100 students, juniors didn’t have much to do with freshmen.
Still however, I admired him greatly. Everybody did. He was so smart and such a great athlete. He was a strong-armed quarterback, a terrific basketball guard, a hard-throwing pitcher, excellent at any racket sport, especially good at ice hockey, a super golfer, and even (I was told) a respectable Irish hurler. He was also a crafty poker and bridge player. With all that, he never took himself that seriously and had a great sense of humor.
However, I didn’t really get to know Tom till I got to the major seminary years after high school. Even there it took a while. At the age of 21, I arrived still working on my bachelor’s philosophy degree. Meanwhile, at 23 Tom had already begun his 4 years of graduate theology work. By the time I began my theological studies, he was almost ready for ordination. That happened for him in 1964. He was ordained on December 22nd of that year – 60 years (almost to the day) before his final transition.
Besides playing with and against him on various athletic fields, the only time I remember speaking seriously with Tom in the major seminary was during the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965). I asked him for advice on what to read to catch up with the drastic changes occurring because of that historic event. I forget what he told me. But I remember following his instructions.
Because Tom was so smart, our missionary group, the Society of St. Columban, had singled him out for professorship in the seminary. They wanted him to teach Sacred Scripture. So, after his ordination, they sent him off to Catholic University in Washington, DC to get a preliminary master’s degree in theology. After two years there, he’d go on to Rome (and Jerusalem) for his terminal degree in biblical studies.
That’s when Tom and I really connected.
I was ordained in 1966. And as with Tom, the Columbans wanted me to teach in the major seminary. My field would be moral theology instead of biblical studies. But Tom and I would go off to Rome together to study – he for 3 years, and I for 5.
And oh, what a ride that would be! In Europe, we’d vacation together, ski many of Europe’s great resorts, and as brothers and colleagues sort out the details of our personal and political lives.
It began with both of us living at St. Columban’s major seminary in Milton, MA the summer before we left for the Eternal City. That was in 1967. I forget what Tom was doing in Milton. I was completing a summer course in Hebrew at Harvard. But every night the two of us drove over to Boston’s West Roxbury to play basketball with “the brothers.” We were the white boys who could ball with any of them. (I remember one night the Celtics’ Satch Sanders was there watching.)
The basketball connections continued in Rome. Both of us ended up playing in something like a G League there for a team affiliated with Rome’s professional club, Stella Azzurra. We scrimmaged against them a time or two. And it was all great fun — a great way to learn Italian culture and make Italian friends. Our Stella Azzurra team was coached by Altero Felice who later had a basketball arena named after him. We considered Altero a good friend and father figure.
While in Rome, Tom and I were also invited by Giulio Glorioso [the Italian equivalent (we were told) of Babe Ruth] to play baseball for the Rome team. (We had worked out with them one spring.) I remember the Saturday afternoon Giulio came to the Columban residence to try to persuade us to play ball that summer.
For better or worse, we passed up that offer in favor of studying German two of our summers in Europe at the University of Vienna. (German at that time was still considered essential for any serious theologian or scripture scholar.)
In a sense, both Tom and I grew up in Rome. Following Vatican II, everything was called into question. Over Pasta e Faggioli and salsiccia dinners in the Columban house at Corso Trieste 57, the 20 or so of us graduate students (all ordained priests from Ireland, Great Britain, Australia, New Zealand, Scotland, Tasmania – and we two Yanks) debated fundamental topics never open to question before Vatican II: God (Is there such a being?), Jesus (Was he somehow God? But how?), the nature of the church (Was Luther a heretic or a saint?), the priesthood (Was it necessary?). And what about mandatory celibacy? The discussions were unforgettable and life-changing.
Our friendship continued and deepened to eventually include our wives, Dee (Tom’s bride) and Peggy (mine). We spent several year-end celebrations together. And once we got together in Costa Rica for a long weekend at an all-inclusive resort. Peggy and I attended the wedding of their eldest son, Tommy in Chicago. Tom and Dee came to our daughter Maggie’s wedding in 2007 in Kentucky. Peggy and Dee remain fast friends.
The four of us got together for the last time a year-and-a-half ago in Florida. By then Tom had already been slowed by heart and lung problems. But his sense of humor never faded. Neither did his life-long interest in and commitment to spiritual growth.
Yes, Tom Shea was a close friend of mine. We grew up together for nearly three-quarters of a century, often acting as each other’s counsellor, advisor and confessor — every minute accompanied by stories and laughter. As Peggy recently pointed out to me, his down-to-earth wisdom and example saved me in effect from a closed system and lonely life that otherwise would have throttled me.
So, thank you, Tom Shea for being such a good fellow traveler. You were wise, generous, humble, and always brilliant. I’m grateful for the gift of your impactful life. We’ll see each other again soon, I know.
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